


(Tonight)

by misbegotten



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: F/M, Fandom Stocking 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: She is a tower of strength (except when she lets herself yield).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alyse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyse/gifts).



Gaby is drinking on the balcony. Behind her in the hotel room, Napoleon and Illya talk, the low rumble of their voices a pleasant counterpoint to each sip. Argument (drink). Continued argument (drink). Resolution (not resolution) as Napoleon leaves (drink). Approaching footsteps (drink).

Illya's hands are warm on her shoulders, a pleasant change from the brisk night air. She leans back, lets herself be enveloped.

"Are you done?" she asks. They've been arguing about her again. (Illya seems to think she needs protecting.)

"Nyet," Illya replies curtly. His hold on her tightens.

(Never stop protecting me.) "I'm fine," she says. (Drink.)

It had been a hard case, after all. (Danger, excitement, danger again.) Gaby is no princess in need of a prince, but at the moment she's willing to take a knight at least. In shining whatever fashionable thing he's wearing today. He likes to dress her, and she lets him because frankly she doesn't care what she wears.

(He likes to undress her, too. She lets him do that, as well.)

He takes her glass, protecting her from herself. And so she loses herself in him instead of oblivion. Accepts caresses in place of alcohol. The warmth of his lips on hers instead of the sharp bite of vodka (nectar of his homeland). A celebration of life, in place of her cold, dead corpse in his arms.

(It had been a very hard case.)

Tonight, she thinks, perhaps they might survive this endless parade of danger that they've enrolled in. Tonight, she won't give in. Except to Illya. And that's a little victory in itself, because her Iron Man melts like butter at her touch. Stiffens (no giggling) because he's unused to pleasure and the nakedness of decadent Western abandonment (she's been spending too much time with Napoleon). Sighs when they come together, a pleased sound (begrudging because he doesn't think he's worthy) followed by gasps, by unspoken promises, by joy.

All of this is in aid of saying that for tonight, they are just man and woman, not spy and spy. She can be his strength, he her comfort. 

And, Gaby thinks (hopes), maybe there's a future for them after all.

(Love.)


End file.
